


Her name was Patience Mount

by RozyHtaylor



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/F, Future, LGBT, Love, Story, diary post, sorry - Freeform, trixie looking back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 07:00:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13758753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RozyHtaylor/pseuds/RozyHtaylor
Summary: Tribe isn't a midwife anymore, life has very much passed the nurse by and now she wants to reach out to tell the world about an old friend





	Her name was Patience Mount

I am now 80, I was a midwife for over 45 years – I am a happily married women. Had a beautiful son of my own called Pax as well as raising a step daughter whom I love dearly. Between the 2 of them I have had 5 grandchildren and even have a great grandchild. Even after all this time my family makes me feel loved like I was 25 again. I never wanted a big family. My family grew rather natural and my son came along rather quickly if I must say so! Not that I regret anything though it didn’t take a midwife to work out that was born only 6 months after my wedding, yet was not premature! The only friend I confided in about it all was a ginger midwife, she had fire in her soul that matched the colour of her brightly coloured hair. She had a passion for things I can never understand but we had an understanding. Neither one of us questioned more than we needed too and anything past each others safety and happiness simply was not our concern. It served our friendship well for nearly my whole midwife career and I certainly wouldn’t have had half the adventures in Poplar if she was not around. I spend many years with her riding around poplar on wobbly bikes, through the streets that were often on the edge of being smog covered, babies were born everywhere i can describe or think of. A few personal favorites were boats and taxis in later years. We cycled through London, sometimes feeling like we were in a film - in our pristine perfectly irons uniform (thank you nurse Crain- God rest her soul) delivering baby after baby. My friendship with the ginger midwife was the kind of friendship that bloomed in the centre of one’s heart. She had a kind of brutal honesty that tested most friendships, but I always appreciated it. I always appreciated her view on my outfits or when she listened to my dating stories. I always knew where I stood with her- the only secret she ever kept from one was not because our friendship wasn’t real but because she was scared. Even with everything she went though she was generous to a fault, both with her time and her possessions. She would deny it though. Some friends I met on my nursing journey, some were their for a reason, others for a season and some were for life. She was for life. She is for life. She was my maid of honour and planner of my hen night. She was my roommate for years and my person for just as long. She attended my keep-fit classes for years after we went our separate ways, even though she complained about coming she always came every Monday. We witnessed many first together. The ultrasound was a big thing and we went for the training together, we met for brunch every couple of weeks even when life got busy. Even when she moved out of Poplar, and I married my dentist.

Her love story was different to mine but just to as pure and just as real. I got married at 25 while she got married at 71. In 2004. She looked as dashing, but I know it was near enough 55 years after she proposed. Neither of them wore a dress. She simply stated that while they both were excited to be finally doing that that she was sure she would look rather ghastly in a white dress at her age. Her wedding was small, a large number of people whom would have attended all those years ago simply were not around any more- either due to life moving in new or different directions or because they had passed. As we finally celebrated the piece of paper they had been fighting for for years, their was a feeling in my stomach of all the people that loved them that couldn't be there. Neither of them got married with their parents by their sides. Both sets were long gone - it was a wedding day but really I had been seeing them as married for many years. 

She was well travelled and a natural blonde. When I first met her she was ginger though and has never gone back. The shade has changed slightly but the orange was always clear. Pale but never looking ill. With a dress sense that in the late 50s wasn’t something I saw regularly. She was the first midwife I had met that owned multiple pairs of slacks and could pull them off for every occasion. She spoke her mind and loved to clean. The first time I met her she was maybe strawberry blonde and was cleaning the whole workroom due to a small amount of dog muck that had been walked in by a Nun. That’s how i knew we would be friends. I don't think she liked me at first, but she soon grew to love me- or learnt how to put up with me but sharing a room with someone can often do that. I took her a rather long time for her to open up to me or so it felt but maybe it is because I was used to Jenny Lee who liked to rant about life. She was different to Jenny Lee and I did once fear that I wouldn’t like her. But, I didn’t know her. 

Back when I used to drink we would often share stories about our days over many a glass of something, often forgetting that the next day would arrive eventually. We could always talk about everything. It was many years before I knew the secret that kept her up at night, the secret that explained so much- she should have told me years sooner but in her defence I was engaged to a vicar. She didn’t hide it well. Looking back now 40 years in the future I should have seen it all but i was so naive. She was my best friend. I just didn't think. I didn't want too.

She had passion for things that I knew could hurt her even if I didn't yet know what those passions for so long. For so long, I didn't understand her friendship with the welsh nurse. That was just as fiery as my best friend and with a look that could kill. They had know each other longer than I had known Patsy, they had spent time together back when Patsy was on male surgery. They had shared laughs before I was even aware of her existence. When the ginger midwife first moved into my room, she never mentioned the welsh girl by name. She was just an old friend from nursing school. But whenever she came back from meeting her friend for coffee or was preparing to go out the smile was real. Her 'I'm just meeting a friend' look became the happiest I would ever see her, even when we would laugh on an evening or dance around with Barbara, the smile was still no match for the 'I'm just meeting a friend look'. I was jealous, when they first tried to move out they were laughing and it hit me that Patsy had never spoke about moving out, she always seemed to happy. So content. If I had known then what I do know all these years later I would have carried the mop, I would have offered to help her pack or unpack. I would have been a better friend. But, I didn't know. I wish i could have changed it but I didn't know. I should have known.

Christopher continues to tell me that no one knew, that it's not just some secret from me, it was a secret that no one knew. It was theirs.

By the time the welsh nurse moved into the convent my jealousy had gone, I didn't really think about it. We didn't talk. she was a friend of a friend. When i needed to be I spoke to her and I often felt for her when she was at the tail end of a sad spell from my best friend but the welsh nurse never complained, she took it as a blessing. She paid her rent and ate with the rest of us. She just became another nurse to share the house with us. I didn't question why Patsy often snuck out in the middle of the night or arrived into the room in the early hours. I didn't think I should. I was always a pretty heavy sleeper so many a night it never woke me, she knew how to avoid the squeaky floor board and knew how to avoid the furniture with great skill. Many a night on the way back from the bathroom, I would walk into the side of my bed before realise what it was! 

I can't remember the when she told me but she told me in fear, I do know that. I do know that Its was not to do with her trust in me even on the days when I was simply just waiting for the words to leave her mouth- I had never had a problem with people like her even before she told me, i knew it simply was not my place to judge we all have are own dark secrets and she was just the same. For me the thing that was hard to tell was the fact i didn't drink, alcoholic, a title I have almost forgot was a part of me after so long but for many years it was the word i feared the most, the word that made my gut wrench and my hands shake. It was my secret and for so many years the word gay had the same effect on her. The word would make her change the subject of gulp and grit her teeth. It scared her, like the word alcohol scared me. We both now own the words, but for both of us it took time. Many years. 

Her name was Patience Mount and she was my best friend.


End file.
